Hey, it's been awhile. I know I was supposed to update my Gossip Girl fics but I thought about this and couldn't get it out of my head.
Summary: You are the ruler of the world now. The only dark wizard to ever succeed in conquering the world." Are you happy?" You turn around. It is him again. "Happy? I don't care about happiness."
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize does not belong to me.
"Master," the dark-haired wizard wheezes. "Potter and his two friends escaped."
You are enraged. You want to curse the wizard who gives you the bad news. But you keep your temper in check. "No matter. I will dispose of him in due time."
The dark-haired wizard cackles. "Of course you will, my Lord."
"How did Potter escape?" you ask. You will personally torture whoever let him escape.
"It was the witch," he replies. "She did some nasty spellwork on Dolohov."
Your mouth curls in disgust. Of course it was the bushy-haired witch. Potter has no real talent. "Bring Dolohov to me, Nott."
"Yes, Master."
The dark-haired wizard leaves and returns with a nervous-looking male.
"M-master."
"You have displeased me, Dolohov."
"My Lord! It wasn—"
You ignore his excuses. You do not tolerate failure. You raise your wand at him, internally pleased by his terrified expression. "Crucio!"
He screams in agony. You feel nothing.
"Potter, the Mudblood and the Blood-traitor have stolen the sword, Master," your most loyal follower whimpers, fearing your wrath. She throws herself at your feet. "I'm so sorry that I have failed you, Master." Her manic eyes are filled with tears. "Please forgive me!"
You look at her in disgust. "Get up."
"Master!"
"I expected better of you. I do not tolerate failure," you say coldly.
She shrinks at your words. You know she loves you and that your disappointment is worse than any torture you could give her.
"I tried, Master! The Order—"
You torture her with your words. "You prove incapable, then. Perhaps you aren't fit to serve me."
"No, Master!" she cries. "I live only to serve you!"
"But you displease me." She shrinks even more. Her lower lip quivers under your harsh gaze. You raise your wand at her. "Crucio!"
She crumples and cries out in pain. The sound pleases you. You want to laugh at how your most prized follower looks. She is the closest to your level out of all your followers, but she is still miles away.
"Pathetic," you spit. "I will give you another chance to redeem yourself. Do not fail me again."
"Thank you, Master," she says with tears of gratitude in her eyes. "I won't fail you, Master. I am your most loyal and most—"
"Leave," you say coldly.
It is like a slap to the face. Her face crumples again but she obeys.
"Such cruelty."
You know that voice. You turn around and you are faced with the only one you have ever feared.
Impossible.
"You!"
The older man bows gravely. "Me." He greets you with your proper name. The one that ties you to the family you have forsaken. The family you have killed. "Hello."
You snarl. "That is not my name any longer, as you know."
He smiles apologetically. You want to wipe it off his face. "Forgive me, but I've known you as such for a long time now and it would be silly to call you Master or Lord."
"I refuse to be tied to that name! To that family! It is unworthy! Weak!"
He shakes his head at you, as if saddened.
Your anger flares. "Even in death you are infuriating! How are you here anyway? You're dead. I killed you."
He smiles. "I'm a figment of your imagination, of course. Perhaps a manifestation of your guilt. You've killed quite a number of innocent people."
You snort. "I know no guilt. I have no remorse."
"I am sad to hear that."
It infuriates you to hear his condescending tone. It is his fault that you are the way that you are! It is because of him you turned out that way. "Why are you here?"
"To guide you, as was always my job."
Your temper rises. "I don't need guidance! I killed you! I'm now the owner of the Deathstick! And with it, I will kill Potter once and for all!"
He looks saddened by the news. "I am very disappointed in you."
Your anger surmounts. "What does your disappointment mean to me? Avada kedavra!"
A jet of green light shoots out of your wand toward the older wizard who disappears.
You scream in frustration.
You see your most loyal follower attack the redheaded girl. A jet of green light narrowly misses her. The blood-traitor is enraged and tries to attack the redheaded girl's attacker, but she deflects every one of his curses. You laugh at the scene. The Potter boy shakes with fury and his grip on his wand tightens.
"Leave them to me," you tell your most loyal follower. "Go down with the others and fight the Order."
"But Master…" she is hesitant to leave.
Your anger flares. "I can handle this lot."
"Yes, of course, Master," she says. And she leaves.
"Potter," you snarl.
Potter looks at you with disgust. You read into his thoughts. He is thinking of how handsome and charming you had once been. Now all that charm and good looks are gone. You snort. Looks and charm don't matter to you. You think it trivial in your quest for power.
He taunts you with your birth name.
Your eyes flash with anger. "That is no longer my name!" You manage to calm yourself though. Keep a level head, you say to yourself. "You are just like him. The fool. Trying to cut me down to your size, but it will not work, Potter. I am better than you. I am infinitely more skilled."
And in a display of your skill, you lazily flick your wand at the disarmed bush-haired witch who screams in agony. You make slashing movements and then the blood-traitor is screaming, bleeding profusely. You raise your wand again and then the redheaded witch is in the air, writhing and shrieking.
You know that this will anger Potter.
Not disappointing you, he screams at you. "Stop! Stupefy!"
Another flick of your wand and the spell is rebounded.
"Duro!"
Another flick.
"Everte statum!"
Another flick.
"Flipendo!"
Another flick.
"Impedimenta!"
Another flick.
"Expelliarmus!"
Another flick.
"Petrificus totalus!"
Another flick.
He sends curse after curse and jinx after jinx and hex after hex, all of which you deflect.
"You disappoint me, Potter. I expected better."
Your words cause the Potter's anger to surmount, as you knew it would.
"Perhaps I should just kill the girl, like I killed mummy and daddy," you mock, trying to incense him. "Maybe that will motivate you."
His green eyes flash with rage. "Crucio!"
You do not deflect this curse. Instead you smile as it hits you, writhing in pain but not crying out. When the pain subsides, your smile widens. "That's better, but not by much. Let me show you how it's done." You point your wand at the red-haired witch. "Crucio!"
She screams in agony.
You point it at Potter. "Crucio!"
The Potter boy screams as well. Your mouth twists in an odd, cruel smile, as you listen to his pain. It gives you unparalleled joy to torment him.
"Leave him alone!" the bushy-haired witch sobs. She does not have her wand, as you had disarmed her earlier. If she did, she probably would have down something. Still, it would have been useless. You only disarmed her so that she wouldn't help the Potter boy escape. "You're evil! Twisted."
Your smile widens. Her insults are compliments to you. "Thank you."
"Don't you care at all?"
Your mouth curls in disgust. "Caring is for the weak."
"I hate you," she spits out.
"As if I care what you think, Mudblood," you say coldly. And as if to prove your point, you point your wand at her. "Avada kedavra!"
She crumples. Potter, the blood-traitor and the redheaded witch scream her name.
Enraged, Potter curses you. This time, you do cry out in pain as you writhe. This time, Potter means it.
Your mouth twists in that odd smile again. He is one step closer to madness and descent. "Better."
"This isn't a game!" he yells at you, furious, with tears in his green eyes. "You're hurting innocent people!"
You shrug dismissively, as if you don't care. And truth be told, you don't. Still, you only do it to infuriate him more, which it does.
But then his anger turns to disappointment. "How could you be so unfeeling?" His green eyes (so much like...) are filled with pity and sadness. You want to gouge them out.
You don't reply. Instead, you point your wand at his best friend, the blood traitor. "Avada kedavra!"
A flash of green light, the blood traitor dies. The redheaded witch and Potter scream his name.
They both cast curses at you, which you deflect. Then you disarm the redheaded witch. Potter's curses become more frantic. You laugh and point your wand at the redheaded witch.
She looks at you with defiant brown eyes. You want to see the defiance leave them.
"You wouldn't," Potter says.
You smile. "Wouldn't I, Potter? My evil knows no limits." You raise your wand. "Crucio!"
She screams in agony.
"Perhaps I shall torture her to insanity like the Longbottoms," you suggest with a cruel smile.
Potter tries to disarm you once again, but you immobilize him and force him to watch the torture of the person he loves most.
"Crucio!"
She jerks around uncontrollably, screaming and begging him to stop. Still, she is not broken.
You raise your wand again. "Crucio!"
She screams again, pleading and writhing. When the pain subsides, she looks at you with those brown eyes again. There is no defiance anymore. No anger. Just resignation. She doesn't cry. She doesn't beg. She says your name.
"Crucio!"
She screams once more, collapsing from the torture.
Potter becomes wild with rage. Hurting her is his breaking point. He points his wand at you. "Crucio!"
You flick your wand to deflect the curse. "You can do better than that, Potter."
"I'm going to make you pay! How could you?" Potter screams. "Crucio."
Another flick.
"You killed my best friends! You hurt her! You killed my parents!" his green eyes are wild with rage.
Your smile becomes more twisted. "Our parents."
His rage surmounts. "I'll kill you!"
Your smile widens. You wanted this to happen. You wanted to push him to this point. You were expecting this. Before he says the curse, you summon the incapacitated redheaded witch.
"Avada kedavra!"
There is a flash of green light and the redhead crumples to the ground.
The look on Potter's face makes you smile. His eyes are crazed and his expression is one of pure torture. He, himself, crumples to the ground and he screams.
You have succeeded in driving Potter mad. You have succeeded in driving him to the dark. You have succeeded in turning him into what he hated most. You have won.
You laugh cruelly. He looks up at you with his crazed eyes. "Murderer." He flinches at the word. You laugh harder and raise your wand.
He says your name.
"James." His green eyes are filled with sorrow. "Brother."
"Avada kedavra!"
A jet of green light, he dies instantly.
You stare at his lifeless body. A flicker of emotion flashes in your eyes. Just for a moment, then it is gone. You scoff as you kick his body.
Pathetic.
You go down to find most of the Order and your followers incapacitated. There is more of the Order than your followers. Still, you have won. Potter's body trails behind you, floating in midair.
"It is over," you say with a cruel smile.
Instantly, the hope leaves their eyes. The Order stops fighting and your followers cheer. The Great Harry Potter, your father, had died by your hands years ago and now the only hope for the wizard world, Albus Potter, your brother, is dead by your hands.
Longbottom gives a cry and shoots a curse at your most loyal follower, incapacitating her, inciting the others to follow suit and keep fighting.
This infuriates you. You duel her.
Her skill is prodigious. Of course it is. She was at the top of her year, only trailing after you. But it was a long trail.
"Crucio!"
She writhes but does not cry out in pain. You have to hand it to her; she is tough.
"You're a monster," she spits out.
You have heard it before by many people. Your father. Your mother. Your sister. Your brother. But it had never stung before. You hate this power she holds over you. You thought it had gone away when she rejected you in favor of good.
You loved this girl. Loved. You do not love her anymore. But you loved her. And she loved you. Yet she stood on your father's side. Another thing your father took away from you.
You hate her. You hate her more than you hate your father who never loved you. You hate her more than you hate your brother who stole everything from you. You hate her more than anything because you loved her and she loved you and that still wasn't enough.
She looks at you with those pretty eyes. She is glaring at you with that icy stare that could rival a basilisk's. It doesn't terrify you anymore though. You're not that little boy anymore. You're not scared of anything anymore, least of all her. But part of that little boy is still in you and you hate seeing that icy stare directed at you.
"I hate you," she says.
You know it's not true. "Then kill me. End it now."
She raises her wand and for a moment, you are terrified that she actually does hate you. But then she falters. You smile.
"Kill me now," you goad her. "I killed your brother."
She glares at you and sends a curse at you, which you deflect. She does some skillful things with her wand. You do things with your wand that far surpass her skill.
"Do it," you urge her. "I killed your sister. Kill me now."
She sends curse after curse. You just keep deflecting.
"I killed your mother," you say with a cruel smile. "I killed your father. Kill me now."
Her curses are more urgent. They fly at you. There are some narrow calls. She was always a great duellist. You were always better though.
"Come on," you taunt. "Don't tell me you can't beat me. What happened to the brave Auror?"
She clenches her teeth. "Of course I can kill you. I have a power you know not."
You laugh, truly amused. This sounds familiar. "Don't tell me you actually believe that rubbish."
Her wand work becomes more creative. "It's not rubbish. You killed my friends. You killed my family. You killed the people I love. I will avenge them because I love them. Love makes me strong."
"Then kill me," you say.
She sends curse after curse, but still not the one that will end it. You laugh.
"Kill me," you provoke. "If your love is so powerful, kill me now… Daisy."
It is the name that does it. It is the name that sends her over the edge. She screams in frustration. "I can't!"
"I know." You smile. "It is because of that love that you cannot kill me. It is because of that love that you will die at my hands."
You raise your wand at her. She does nothing to defend herself. She just looks at you with those pretty eyes again. Only this time there was no anger or hatred or iciness. Instead there is still some of that love she once had for you mixed with sadness and disappointment. And somehow, that is worse.
She does not beg or plead for her life. She does not declare her love for you.
Instead, she shakes her head with disappointment. "James." You almost flinch at the sound of your name on her lips. "I don't understand."
"Avada kedavra."
She crumples to the ground, her pretty eyes lifeless.
You stare at her with no remorse. You're a monster.
You are the ruler of the world now. The only dark wizard to ever succeed in conquering the world.
"Are you happy?"
You turn around. It is him again. "Happy? I don't care about happiness."
"That's sad."
"Go away, old man," you snarl.
He doesn't leave. He just stares at you with those green eyes. "What happened to you? I don't understand."
I don't understand…
His words echo that of the pretty Longbottom girl. It almost makes you flinch. Almost.
"You were such a bright boy. Some said you would surpass Dumbledore in skill, and you did. You wasted your talent," he says, shaking his head. "Such a pity."
His words enrage you. He had never been proud of you. He had never acknowledged your accomplishments. He had turned away from you in favor of your brother, who took after him in both looks and manners. All you had ever wanted was his approval. "It was never enough for you."
"You're being ridiculous, James."
Your anger swells. "Ridiculous? I'm not being ridiculous! Nothing I did was ever enough for you! It was always 'Albus this' or 'Albus that'! Well I got sick of it!"
"Now that's not true," he says. "I did not favor any one of you over the rest."
You scoff. "Yes you did. I'm smarter than Albus. More talented than Albus." Your temper rises with every second. "Funnier than Albus. Braver than Albus. Infinitely better than Albus in every way! Yet you still preferred him over me! Everyone did!"
He shakes his head at you, as if you don't understand. But you do understand. Everyone loved your brother more than they loved you.
"Just admit it," you snarl. "Albus is and always was your favorite. Even though I was better at him in everything, you still favored him."
"That's not true," he says. You open your mouth to argue, but he continues. "Albus was always a better person than you. He had a heart. He was capable of loving."
You think about clear blue eyes and pealing laughter. You dismiss those thoughts and refocus your attention on him. "I loved loads of people."
"Loved," he agrees. "Not quite so anymore."
"Love is for the weak," you say darkly.
"I'm sorry to hear you say that," he says. "Love is one of the most powerful forces out there."
"And yet here we are," you say with a satisfied smile. "You, dead. I, alive."
"Death isn't the worst thing out there," he says sagely.
"No, but death by the hands of your own son?" you ask cruelly.
"Are you happy?" he asks again, looking sad.
"What is happiness to me?" you scoff.
"Pity… you used to be a happy child. Always smiling and laughing…" His green eyes go glassy as he reminisces. "What happened?"
You are seven and already able to control your magic. You've been able to perform magical feats since you were two. You like to give performances to your many cousins who are astounded and awed by your talents. You are more talented than they are, even though some of them are older and in Hogwarts already.
Today, you change the color of the walls and then change them back, a feat way beyond your seven-year-old age.
"Wow," Peggy Longbottom says, amazed. "You're so cool, James."
You beam brightly at your best friend. "Thank you, Daisy."
"Wow, kid. You're really something," Teddy says. Teddy is like your big brother. You want to be just like him. "You're even better than I am, I think." He ruffles your hair. "You're going to be a great wizard some day, you know that?"
Dominique sniffs. She hates when the attention is not on her. "It's not that cool."
"You try it then, Dom," her older sister, Victoire, teases.
She wrinkles her nose in response. "Come on guys. Let's go play Hide and Go Jinx."
They all leave to play the game.
"Are you coming, James?" Peggy asks sweetly.
You shake your head. "I want to show mummy and daddy."
You find your dad talking to Uncle Ron. They don't seem to notice you, so you tug on his pants. "Daddy."
Your dad glances at you. "Not now, James. Can't you see that I'm talking to your Uncle Ron?"
You falter. "But daddy—"
"Not now, James," he says sternly.
You are used to that phrase. Not now, James. You sigh.
"Go to mummy," he advises before turning back to Uncle Ron.
You find your mum talking to Gran with your baby sister, Lily, on her lap. You tug on her dress. "Mummy."
"Not now, James," she says. "Go to daddy."
"But daddy said to go to you," you protest.
"Oh, just listen to the poor child," Gran scolds.
Your mum sighs, but you beam at Gran.
"What is it, James?" your mum asks.
"Look at what I can do," you say proudly. The room starts changing colors.
Your mom's jaw drops slightly. "Ja—Merlin's pants! Al!"
You stop changing the color of the room and turn, slightly disappointed. The cake is on the ground, next to Al who was eating handfuls of it.
"What happened?" she asks.
"I was hungwy," he says. "Is mummy mad?"
"Mad? No! You just performed magic!" your mum exclaims proudly. "Harry! Oh! Harry!"
Your dad comes in and your mum explains the whole situation and he is beaming proudly as well. He ruffles Al's already messy hair. "Good job, son."
Soon everyone is fawning over Al, and you are forgotten. When no one is looking though, you magically tie Al's shoelaces together so that he trips.
You are sixteen and about to enter your Sixth Year at Hogwarts. You had just been awarded one of the most prestigious awards given to a young wizard. One that had been last earned by Dumbledore.
"Hey, you." Her smile is wide and affectionate.
You smile. "Hey, yourself."
"I heard about the award! Congratulations!" She throws her arms around you.
You're not used to physical displays of affection. Typically, they're reserved for Al or Lily. Peggy usually isn't one for physical displays of affection either, so it throws you off guard. You stumble, before slowly putting your arm around her. "Thanks, Daisy. Congratulations to you too."
She colors slightly like it always does when you call her that. You used to use that name for her when you were younger, but now you reserve it for times when it means something to you. You're not sure why she blushes, but you think it's cute.
"Your family must be ecstatic!" Her clear blue eyes are sparkling. "Uncle Harry will probably throw you a big celebratory supper, right?"
You frown. So far, you've only been congratulated by Al, Lily and Peggy. Your countless cousins don't bother with you much and your uncles and aunts barely even notice you. Your grandparents fawn over Al ("You're so handsome! So much like your father!") and the others, that they barely notice you. Your parents dote on Al as well ("Al, do you want the last slice of cake?" "James, your brother looks cold. Give him your coat." "Al, are you sure you're comfortable?" "Al, do you want to go see the Quidditch game? It'll be good father-son bonding time. I could only score one ticket. Sorry, James.") and baby Lily ("James, your sister is staying with Hugo. Be a dear and do her chores." "Lily is much too young to be doing that. James, be a dear and do it for her."). It was always "Al this" or "Lily that"—you never got any attention. Your cousin, Dominique Weasley, always complained that Victoire, her older sister, and Louis, her younger brother, got all the attention and that the middle child was always forgotten. You're the oldest though and you feel like you've gotten the short end of the stick.
The people who give you any attention are strangers ("Firstborn son of the Great Harry Potter!") or teachers ("He's so talented! He could be the next Dumbledore!"). The only people who actually care about you though are Al, Lily, and Peggy. Peggy Longbottom is your best friend and Al and Lily are your siblings. You resent the fact that everyone prefers Al over you and sometimes you resent Al, but you love your little brother. He and Lily look up to you. You are their big brother; it's your job to love and protect them.
"I doubt it," you say truthfully.
"But it's a great achievement. They had a big supper when Teddy was Head Boy and Victoire was Head Girl and..." She frowns. She doesn't understand how your family could neglect you. "This is so prestigious! The last person awarded it was Dumbledore, for Merlin's sake."
"I know."
Her frown deepens. "They should at least acknowledge it."
You shrug. "They're never proud of anything I do."
"Well… I'm proud of you, James," she says sincerely.
Your stomach flutters oddly like it sometimes does when Peggy says something like that. You smile gratefully at her. "Thanks, Daisy."
She blushes again and takes your hand shyly. "Come on. Let's walk."
You guys walk around and talk for hours. Your stomach growls though and you guys walk back to your house for supper. You are surprised that it is abounding with many redheads. Your family and close family friends are all over. Perhaps Peggy was right and your father was throwing you a big celebratory supper. Perhaps he was finally proud of your many accomplishments.
"Hello, James," Aunt Hermione greets. "Peggy."
"Hi, Aunt Hermione," you both greet. Though Peggy isn't really related to you guys, everyone considers the Longbottoms family.
"I heard about the award, James," Aunt Hermione says with a smile. "Congratulations! You're such a brilliant young man. More brilliant than I was at your age."
"And that's saying something," Uncle Ron adds.
"Thank you."
"Harry and Ginny must be so proud of you!" Aunt Hermione exclaims. "It's such an honor."
This is the happiest you've been in a long time. Your father and mother were finally acknowledging you!
And then…
"I'd like to make a toast to my son," your father starts at supper. He raises his glass. "To Al, who's made prefect this year."
Your heart sinks.
"To Al."
Of course… It was always about perfect Al…
Al is positively beaming. You take out your wand under the table and Al spills his butterbeer all over his front.
You are eighteen now and no longer living with your parents. You are a man now.
You still like to have dinner with your family every Friday. Today is Friday and you're over.
Your father looks grave when you enter the house.
"Sit down, James," he says. "I have an important matter to discuss."
You sit down next to your brother, curious as to what this is about.
"I had a close call the other day," your father said. "It got me thinking… I've written up my will."
You are slightly shocked. It's weird to think of your father, the Great Harry Potter, as mortal.
"The money will be split among you four equally," he goes on. "This house will go to your mum and Grimmauld Place will go to Al."
You want to argue about this, but you let him continue. It doesn't matter as long as you get one thing. He lists various things, most of them going to your mother, then Al, then Lily, and occasionally you. You are hurt and angry, but you say nothing. You just want the one thing. So you keep quiet until...
"My invisibility cloak will go to Al."
You jump up, not able to stand it any longer. "What? That's not fair!"
"James, calm down," your mother says.
"I will not calm down, mother!" you say in a loud voice. "I'm the firstborn yet I get almost nothing!"
Your father frowns. "James."
Your temper flares. "No! This is bull! Just because Al is your favorite doesn't mean—"
"Al is not my favorite," your father says.
"Like hell!"
"James!" your mother gasps.
"You guys love Al more than you love me!"
Albus is squirming uncomfortably and Lily is looking down. They know it's true.
"That is not true, James," your father says.
"It is true! You love him more than you love me. I get awards and you ignore me. He says one word and you fall over him. I make a mistake and you punish me. He screws up and you just give him a pat on the back. Every time I do something worthwhile, you don't even care! It's always about Al!" This is the first time you've ever voiced your thoughts and the more you speak, the more your temper rises. It's exhilarating to finally be able to express your feelings. To express your anger.
You hate your parents. You hate them for not loving you.
"James," Al says in a tiny voice.
"Shut up, Al," you snap.
"James Sirius Potter!" your father says. "Apologize to your brother!"
"This is exactly what I mean! I hurt ickle Ally-kins' feelings and you guys treat it like a crime. Whenever he does something to me, you guys tell me to just get over it!"
"You're older!"
"That doesn't mean I can't be angry or upset!"
"It means you have to set an example!"
"Stop it!" your mother screams.
You both stop your yelling.
"Apologize, James," your father says sternly.
"No. I refuse."
"James, I mean it. Listen or Merlin help me, I'll—"
"You'll what?" you ask. "I'm eighteen. I'm a man now. You can't tell me what to do anymore. You can't ground me."
"We're still your parents," he says.
You're sick of it. You're sick of your parents ignoring you for Al or for Lily. You're sick of trying to make your parents proud of you. You're sick of trying to make them love you.
You hate them. And you want to hurt them for hurting you.
"Yeah, well you're lousy ones," you say spitefully.
The hurt look in your mother's eyes almost makes you take it back.
"Get out of my house," your father says, his temper flaring. "Until you learn to respect us, you are no longer welcome in this family."
You glare defiantly at him as you stand up. "I don't want to be in this stupid family anyways. You're the worst father ever." Then you set fire to the invisibility cloak.
Your father's face is one of rage and despair. You know what the cloak means to him. It was his father's.
He pulls his wand out to extinguish the fire. And then he looks at you with pure loathing in his eyes. Next thing you know, you're dueling.
Your mother and siblings are screaming and begging you guys to stop. You guys ignore them though. He's sending curse after curse and so are you. He's an extremely skilled duelist. You know that. You also know he's got loads of experience on you. Still, you have pure talent.
You disarm him.
He breathes hard, staring at you with hateful eyes.
"Don't look for me. I don't want anything to do with any of you." Then you disapparate.
You do everything you could to make your father ashamed of you after that moment. You plunge in the Dark Arts. Become more like Voldemort. Become so twisted, that you don't recognize yourself anymore. You kill your father. Then you kill your mother. You kill your cousins. You kill your uncles. You kill your aunts. You kill your former friends. You have your brother kill your sister. You kill your brother. You kill her… You are a monster without remorse. One who does not love anyone.
Your father killed the most evil and most powerful dark wizard to exist only to sire one even more evil and more powerful. The irony is not lost on you. You savor the irony.
"I hate you, father," you spit at him.
He smiles sadly at you. "I love you, son."
You want to scream at him because no, he didn't! But he vanishes.
Green eyes stare hatefully at you. "Worthless."
"Dad—"
A redhead joins him. "Pathetic."
"Mum—"
An older redhead woman with graying hair snorts. "Do you honestly think you're anything special?"
"Gran—"
Blue eyes stare coldly at you. "You're not anything special."
"Grandad—"
A shrill voice says, "You're insignificant."
"Aunt Hermione—"
Blue eyes look at you in disgust. "You're a waste of space."
"Uncle Ron—"
The same blue eyes look down on you. "You're useless."
"Rose—"
Brown eyes are glaring. "You're less than rubbish."
"Hugo—"
Lighter brown eyes are dancing with fire. "You're dirt."
"Lily—"
Green eyes are glaring once more. "You're nothing."
"Al—"
Clear blue eyes stare icily. "You're nobody."
"Peggy—"
More and more people appear, spitting insults. You shrink with each one. Uncle Bill… Teddy… Freddie… Lucy… Everyone.
"You were the worst big brother ever. Al is a much better brother than you," Lily says.
"How could anyone want you?" Gran asks disdainfully staring at you. "Al is much better."
"Al is the perfect son," your mother says with a look never reserved for you.
"Al is better than you. Al should've been the firstborn. You're a disappointment," your father says shaking his head.
"You never should have been born," Al says. "It would have been better that way. Everyone would have been happier that way."
Peggy lets out a peal of laughter. "How could anyone love you? Especially when next to Al? You're nothing, James. You mean nothing to me. I don't love you. I could care less about you."
You hurt with every word that is said. You want to speak, but you find that you can't.
"Fiend."
"Murderer."
"Monster."
You scream.
You wake in a cold sweat. You haven't had a nightmare in ages. You calm yourself down. It was just a dream, you tell yourself. Soon you're drifting off to sleep again.
"James, wake up."
You blink. "Mum?"
She laughs. "Of course, silly. Wake up. You have to get ready for your party."
You blink again. "Party?"
She shakes her head. "Now is not the time for jokes, James. Go get ready. I laid out your clothes already."
You do as she says, confused, and then head downstairs.
"James!"
You turn around and see Peggy Longbottom in a pretty blue dress.
"Hey."
She twirls around. "What do you think?"
"You look nice."
She smiles. "Thank you."
"What's this party for?" you ask.
She looks at you strangely and laughs. "Oh, James. Only you."
You're confused again. "What do you mean?"
"I'll leave you to figure it out yourself."
You furrow your brows. Everything is weird. You don't remember a party being scheduled for today. And you don't know why it's in your honor. You've never had a party before. Or anything done in your honor, as a matter of fact.
"Mum, what's this party for?" you ask her when you're frustrated about not being able to come up with anything.
She laughs. "Your birthday of course, silly."
You're shocked. "My birthday? When have you ever remembered my birthday?"
She looks surprised. "I always remember your birthday, James. What kind of mother would I be if I didn't?" She shakes her head. "Anyway, your father is looking for you."
You wince, wondering what he could want, and then you go looking for him. It doesn't take you long to find him though.
"Dad?"
He smiles at you with that smile usually reserved for Al. You think he might've gotten you guys confused, but then he says your name. "James. There you are."
"You wanted to see me?" you prompt.
"Just wanted to say happy birthday and… I'm proud of you, son." He claps his hand on your back. "I love you, James."
You wake up from this dream after that. Before you realize it, you're crying. You're actually crying. That dream had been so… nice. But it was just a dream. It never happened and will never happen. Your parents don't care about you. They never did.
You take Dreamless Sleep Potions after that.
You're wandering around aimlessly at Hogwarts. It was the only place you ever felt accepted.
You reminisce about those times and before you know it, you're stumbling in a room you've never been before. The room is empty except for a single mirror.
You're not stupid. You've heard your father's stories often enough to know that this is the Mirror of Erised. You step in front of the mirror, curious as to what your deepest, innermost desire is.
You are surprised to see a handsome black-haired young man with laughing brown eyes staring at you. This is you. Except it's not. You haven't looked like that for awhile, not wanting to be connected to your father, whom you resembled though not quite as greatly as Al.
You are more surprised to see pretty little Peggy Longbottom at your side, with your arm around her, as she holds a baby with the messy black tufts of hair that can only belong to a Potter.
You are even more surprised to see Lily, gazing up at you with adoration, and Al, grinning at you like you're the best of mates.
Your relatives and former friends surround you. There is Rose, reading a book. There is Dominique and Fred, both smiling brightly at you. There is Teddy and Victoire, with their own little child, happy and alive.
You are the most surprised to see your parents, standing beside you. Because you stopped caring. You hate them. You don't need them.
But your mom is smiling at you like and your dad has his hand clapped on your shoulder, beaming proudly. You have your family back. Or rather, you have your family in the first place. It's like how it should have been. You should have had a mother and father who loved you just as much as they loved your other siblings. You should have had relatives that cared about you just as much as they cared about your other siblings. You should have had a family of your own. This is how it should have been.
You stare at the mirror, passive, for a few moments. And then…
Smash.
The glass is cracked and shattered.
Because that's not how it was. And it's not how it ever will be.
It's just a wish and wishes don't come true.